Past, Tense Past
by Hemlock
Summary: My first Remy-centered fic. Any mistake in the accents is my own. I'd be glad if someone teaches me how exactly this man speaks!
1. Secrets of the Past

Part One Secrets of the Past

Remy woke up with a start. His body was wet from cold sweat that ran down his chest, and his breath was like a marathon runner who had just finished a race. His chest rose up and down erratically as he felt his own breathing slowed down to a manageable rate.

Something had woken him up. Maybe a dream, but he wasn't certain. Remy quickly switched on the table lamp. Light spilled from the side table. His eyes scanned the room for anything out of place. None.

Remy began to hear voices. At first he thought it was the wind howling, but as it became louder he was sure it was right inside his head. And he was sure he was going crazy.

_**"…jour de colère que ce jour-là,…"**_

The voices were sweet and cloying at the same time. Remy covered his hands to his ears and ceased all movements. Hoping for the voices to stop.

_**"…où le monde sera rèduit en cendres…"**_

"Stop."

_**"…selon les oracles de David et de la Sibylle…"**_

"_Stop_."

_**"…quelle terreur nous saisira…"**_

"_STOP_."

_**"…lorsque le Juge viendra pour tout… examiner rigoureusement!… jour de colère que ce jour-là,…"**_

_"STOP!! Stop dis instant!"_

The voices did stop as sudden as they had started. Remy closed his eyes tightly for an instant then opened them again. A long moment later he chuckled nervously to himself. "Dis is a dream and I'll wake up and it's morning," he said with a cheerful voice. His expression wasn't so.

He did fall asleep later on with the lights on and he woke up to a warm winter morning, the sun shining through the window and Remy was sure last night had been a strange nightmare. He slowly padded into the bathroom to wash himself, whistling to himself.

After he had splashed water onto his face and stared at the mirror he noticed something was fixed at the upper right corner. He pulled it off and stared at it, his face immediately an amalgam of fear and loathe and anger. It was a tarot card with the image The Hermit on it.

"Pierre de Trois." His voice was filled with bitter hatred when he uttered out the name.

Outside X-Mansion a lone figure was standing opposite the entrance to the mansion. His hooded sweater gave no further identity, but his exposed mouth displayed a wide, malign grin that vanished instantly.

His presence had been announced to the man he had crossed the ocean for, and he knew it. He could taste his anger and fear like he could taste blood in his mouth. A drop appeared at one corner of his lips and he licked it away almost lustily, then walked away.

Rogue plonked down beside Logan who was making vigorous sit-ups. She watched him doing it a few times until Logan got irritated and stopped. He was barely out of breath, yet his perspiration showed he must have repeated ten sets or more. "What is it now? Remy goin' out behin' ya ass agen?"

"I wish," Rogue replied, sitting cross-legged. "He's sulky and snappy and strangely quiet today. Pretty much like you."

Logan made a face. "Thanks for remindin'." He pulled himself up to a sitting position, facing Rogue. "Now, what's the matter?"

Rogue shook her head. "I dunno, Logan. First I think maybe he's sick, but even Emma cannot pull a long face for two straight hours. Then he seems jerky and all shook up. Nervous. Like a deer in a hunting season."

"Maybe an ole friend of his drops by and Don Remy tries to hide from her," Logan said without reserve. A painful _whack_! landed on his thigh. "_Ow_!" He yowled, then growled at her.

"Are you listening? Remy looks nervous! I ain't seen him looking this nervous before!"

"Did you ask him why?" Logan wiped his sweaty face with a white towel, his hair a massive mess.

"I tried, but he only smiled and smiled each time that it drove me mad. He even smiled when I said he's a big bonehead with nothing but big talks and small dick."

Logan recalled the time when he had said similar things to Remy's face. He almost got a charged stone buried in his head for that. "Wow. That's serious."

Rogue nodded passionately. Remy can fool around, but not with anything that had to do with his maleness. "Can you talk to him?" she asked Logan.

"Huh? Me talk to that Cajun?" Logan started to rise. "Ya better ask Cyke. He's more… gentle."

"But," - Rogue also started to rise - "I already did."

Logan hated to ask her this. "And…?"

"He got pissed off and left Remy alone."

"Ask Bishop."

"He's out."

"The Professor." Logan's voice became harder by the minute.

"He's busy."

"Ororo."

"Went out with Bishop."

"Jean!"

"Teaching."

"Emma - "

"Remember what Remy did to her skirt last week?"

"Hi guys." Jubilee's voice came from the other end of the room. "What's so exciting this morning? Logan, here's your juice, Mel's made it fresh for you. And Rogue, you - why are you staring at me like that?"

Jubilee approached the man she knew as Remy LeBeau cautiously. Sparks seemed to emanate from every inch of the tall man as he lazily lounged at the windowsill. She had only spoken to him now and then, but Logan (damn him!) and Rogue had asked her to pry into what was in his mind right now.

"Uh… Remy?"

"Hmmmm?" It seemed like she had disturbed him from a daydream. "Oh, it's you, _cheré_. Come, sit." He patted a space beside him. The window was large, but he filled two-thirds of it. Suddenly Jubilee felt like a dwarf. She sat down at the indicated spot. After a long uncomfortable silence, Jubilee asked:

"So, what's up?"

Remy turned and smiled that famous lazy smile of his. But Jubilee sensed something was missing in the smile. She braved herself to ask again. "You're looking kinda down, Remy. What's wrong?"

Still smiling, he shook his head, the voluminous red-brown hair moved along. "_Non, cheré_. Just a down day for Gambit."

She noticed his left hand played with something that resembled a card. Saying, "Let me see that," she took it from him and scrutinized the card. Her eyes narrowed now and then before she exclaimed:

"I know this! It's what we girls always play with Melinda whenever she's free. She's like a gypsy, you know, and she tells us our fortunes with these cards. This here's Hermit, a loner. Melinda taught me that this is a good card, depends on the circumstances."

"Everything's like dat, ain't it?" Remy mused, his dark eyes focused in another dimension. "Is it one of her cards?"

_Good, he's talking. _"Well, no. But this card means you'll have to detach yourself from the material world in order to gain inner knowledge… or so Melinda says." She stared at the card for a while before she gave it back to Remy. "I don't believe it, but it's rather fun, though."

Remy was silent now. Staring intently at the card, Jubilee saw it began to glow with the familiar reddish hue. "Now why would you want to waste that card? That's a good card. Even the number's nine, a multiple of three."

The reddish hue immediately ceased. Remy darted a confused glance at her. "Come again, _cheré_?"

"The card's number is nine. There," she pointed at the lower part of the card. "In Roman numbers. 'I' and 'X'. Nine."

She looked up at him, smiling. He was still inexpressive. Suddenly like a midnight sun his countenance changed in a blink. He smiled.

"Before anyt'in' else, can you promise me somet'in'?" he said, his voice low and hushed.

"Promise you what?" Jubilee had said, her heart beating away like a runaway train.

"Dat not'in' of what I'll say to you will you tell it to anyone else."

She had promised to tell Logan whatever she could find out from Remy. "What is it?"

"Promise?" His voice became a bit hard.

_They got me into this, thinking that I'm just a baby with fireworks shooting off my fingers. I'll show'em I'm a grown-up, too._ She smiled widely. "_Oui_, _monsieur_."

Remy smiled back nervously, uncertain what he had gotten himself and this guileless girl into.

Warren was outside, flying. He landed upon the roof and sat there, enjoying the cool morning air. There was a swish and he saw Bobby supported by icy pillars rose up there to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Warren. "It's cold."

"Like you care." Warren made a face. "I'm just sitting here, practising my flight. It's been a long time since winter. My wings feel rather heavy after keeping them folded for months." He flapped them, making a slight draught around himself. "Now it's much better."

"Hey, that's Mel, isn't it?" Bobby said, his eyes at the far east corner of the mansion compound. Warren turned and squinted. He nodded. "Yeah… who's that guy talking to her?"

"I never knew she knew someone outside. Didn't she tell us she had no relatives?"

Warren stood up. "Come on. Maybe it's an old friend of hers. If I were her I'd hate people snooping around my personal life."

"But - I think that guy's - "

"Bobby. Drop it."

Logan stumbled upon Jubilee who had just talked with Remy. "Hey, hey, kiddo." He managed to grasp her by the shoulders and turned her around. "So, what's eatin' Remy?"

"Nothing." Jubilee wished he couldn't smell her fear. "Really. Nothing. He's feeling kinda down 'cause he bet on a horse last night and it didn't win." The best lie she could come up with, period.

"Oh, is that it? No wonder that Cajun's so down."

"And he also said if possible, stay out of his sight for about a week or so. Everything reminds him of horses these days." Jubilee thought how much longer she could put up a straight face lying.

"He didn't borrow any money from anyone, did he?"

God, when will he stop!? "No, Logan he didn't and I wish you left me alone!"

Noticing her outburst, she quickly apologised. "Now will you excuse me, I have a class to attend." She quickly ran down the hall. Logan wondered briefly why the things she said didn't quite ring a bell.

Of course. It was Saturday.

Remy paced around the room. The words he heard last night had suddenly sprung into his mind again. Now he tried to think where did he hear the words before. He said the words aloud as he paced restlessly around.

He had forgotten to close the door tightly and in came Hank. "Remy…?"

Remy almost jumped out of his skin. Two times in his life he ever felt like that. Now was the third. "Hank, _mon ami_! You want me dead?"

Hank was surprised to see the change on Remy's face. He looked tired and there were dark circles under them. Normally his hair was a casual mess, but now it was a real mess. Seemed like he had been running his fingers through them a million times. What intrigued Hank were his eyes. They look almost haunted.

"What's wrong, Remy? You look like a shadow of your former self. And just now I heard you said things I never expect from a man like you."

Remy ceased his pacing. "What do you mean?"

"Well, as a good friend, I say it's funny to hear you quoting sacred verses from _messe des morts_. Mass for the dead. You are not the type, in my humble opinion, to know such things, let alone saying them in perfect order."

"If you're saying Gambit's not religious, oui, Gambit's not religious." Remy stood there, his cigarette dangling from one hand.

Hank went on explaining, as though Remy had asked him to. "…_jour de colère que ce jour-là,… où le monde sera rèduit en cendres,… selon les oracles de David et de la Sibylle…_ in Latin, this part of _Sequenz_ is called _Dies irae_. It expresses mortal fear of the day when the Final Judgment comes and the Judge - God himself - comes down to judge mankind."

"So,… dis _Dies irae_. Does it mean anyt'in' else?"

Hank noticed the way Remy's finger that held the cigarette shook. "Are you all right, Remy? I can give you something to ease you up." His voice was full of concern.

"_Non, non, mon ami_. You've been good enough. Now tell me, is dere any other meaning to dis… words?"

"Except total damnation, I can tell you nothing else. Why are you suddenly so interested in this?"

Remy smiled, a nervous smile. "For de record, Hank? I suddenly feel confessional and fearful. But don't ask any further dan dat. _D'accord_?"

His eyes became more and more haunted each time he smiled. Hank began to deeply wonder what has gotten into the usually cheerful mind of Remy LeBeau. "Sure, my dear friend. It's up to you."

Remy nodded, and he fumbled with the cigarette. It fell down on the carpet, which he quickly scooped up and clamped between his shaky tight lips. Remy gave Hank another sardonic grin that Hank could only swear sardonic enough to fit the Grim Reaper.

Hank tried one last time. "I can give you something to ease whatever's you got in your mind, Remy. And I won't ask questions and tell no one about it." A discrete approach.

Remy shook his head. "Always de good _monsieur le docteur, n'est-ce pas_?" It was said with a dismissal tone.

Hank left Remy's room feeling more intrigued than ever.


	2. The Past Catches Up

**Part Two The Past Catches Up**

_Author's note: To those who reviewed the first part and informed me of my mistakes, many thanks =D. Sorry for not giving translations for the French part, esp **Dies Irae**, but in the future I promise I'll place translations. So, here's part 2. Enjoy._

"Oh my God," Charles suddenly muttered.

He was inside of his study as Jean and Scott argued softly over the paper he had given them. But he hadn't been focusing. His mind tend to slip away into someplace unknown and dark, and almost each minute Scott had to raise his voice to recall his attention to their discussion. He had wondered why.

Now he knew why. Charles's hovering wheelchair immediately moved to outside of the room, leaving Scott and Jean both agape.

_Jean, Scott, follow me. Someone's in trouble._

Seconds later they heard Jubilee screamed outside.

They raced and Charles hovered over to the front yard, where snow was still thick from the evening accumulation. Logan had Jubilee in his arms, comforting her as she cried out, "It's Mel, it's Mel, oh my God it's Mel…,"

In the middle of the front yard someone had built a rather clumsy snowman, minus the eyes and the toothy grin. It was dark, and one can only see clearer if one stood closer, which Remy did.

"Careful," Rogue's voice floated in the cool air. She could feel something akin to menace hung about the crude snowman. Remy seemed not to hear this, and if he did, no acknowledgement came from him.

Some parts of the snowman had crumbled and it revealed some fabric. Remy recognised the colour; it was Melinda's mauve sweater that she always wore. On several places there were dark splotches, and Remy slowly pulled the piece of fabric out. At first it didn't budge. But something made him look at the foot of the snowman.

Something dark and sticky flowed from inside the snowman to his feet. At the same time whatever that was inside the snowman fell out in front of him. Jubilee and the rest of the women screamed.

"It isn't Melinda."

Jubilee looked up questioningly, her hands gratefully holding a cup of hot cocoa. "What do you mean, it isn't Melinda? That's her favourite sweater, I'm sure of it."

Charles nodded solemnly. "That's her sweater all right. The body, however, isn't hers."

A hush fell over them. Logan broke the silence. "In any way, it definitely isn't her. That popsicle was a man dressed in Melinda's clothes."

"Who is the man, then?" Ororo asked. "Why in the Goddess' green earth did he have Mel's sweater?"

"We don't know who he is and why. Police is on the way, though. Maybe we'll be able to get something from them."

Logan sneered at Charles' remark. "Like they care. Next thing we know some of us here suddenly got arrested."

"And where is Melinda? Did she kill this man?" Jean asked. Personally, she couldn't even imagine Mel killing a fly.

"Maybe she accidentally kills this man and panicked and ran away," Scott suggested.

"And took her clothes off and exchanged it with this man's? Now there's a novel way of making a panicky escape." Hank stared thoughtfully at the crumbled snowman outside through a window. "It's a crazy thing to do: if you killed someone, you'll want to get away as quick as possible, no tarrying around." Hank turned to face the rest of them.

"It's absolutely illogical. If you killed someone, you'd want the least _obvious_ way to dispose of the body. But - if Mel did it - she instead took her sweet time to make a snowman for means of concealment and exchanged her clothes with the dead man. Not to mention it's freezing outside."

"I smelt three individuals there," Logan said suddenly. "One was Mel. The other two I never smelt before. One stinks big time." As in character.

Warren added, "I saw Mel talked to someone at the same spot where you guys found the body. I didn't see very well who, but I was certain it was a man."

"Yeah, I second that. I was with Warren," Bobby cut in. "They seemed to be arguing and I wanted to take a look, but Warren stopped me."

"Did ya boys got a good look at the man?" Both shook their heads. "Well, if you did, that woulda made things easier." Logan mused over these. "Can't find no prints, shoes or foot. All were snowed in earlier on."

Charles closed his eyes for a while. "I trust Logan's sense of smell, but when the police comes don't tell them anything about the third person. They'll think we made it up. I'll do the talking."

"You mean mind-manipulating," Logan said.

Charles did not have to use his mind powers when the police came, because the police seemed eager to leave the place the moment they realised who they came to deal with. Charles only told them the necessary points, making no mentions about the third person Logan claimed to have smelt, only the possibility of a third person involved due to Melinda's disappearance.

"Are you suggesting she has an accomplice, sir?"

"No, heavens no. Melinda's been with us for nearly five years and she's a good woman through and through. She has no criminal records whatsoever. She couldn't have done this."

"And she's… not a mutant?"

Logan's growl issued from deep his chest. Charles held up a silencing hand to him. "She is not one of us, yes. But she's been working for us as a cook as I've told you before and I give you my word, she's not the kind who'd do these senseless things."

Later, after giving them Melinda's full name and particulars and her photo, Charles asked the officer to inform him when they found the dead man's identity. They left hurriedly into the night.

Remy was back in his room. He held something none of those who found the body outside just now knew existed. It was another tarot card. When the body fell out of the snowman, his cat-sharp eyes noticed something stuck to the throat. Not stuck, more like _buried_ in his throat. Somehow the card slit the man's throat and that caused the massive bleeding inside the snowman.

Before anyone saw it he deftly pulled it out and kept it inside his coat pocket. The blood upon the card had dried, making a grotesque Rorschach-like pattern all over it. He flipped it over and over again, watching it with deepening curiosity.

There was a knock at the door and he immediately put the card back into his coat pocket. "Remy?" A whispered call. Jubilee.

"Come in," he quickly said. "Close de door." She did.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Jubilee finally said after they sat in silence for a moment or two. Remy nodded, placing the card he had found on the table between them.

"Why would he take Melinda, Remy? Some kind of warning?"

Remy shook his head, looking totally lost. "Gambit's not sure. Not'in' made sense. Why would de Trois kill dis unknown man and take Melinda?"

Jubilee shivered, although the room was pleasantly warm. "Maybe Hank's theory is right. He probably made the snowman and the clothes swapping to make everything more obvious. It's like he wants his presence known."

"_Oui_. To _moi_."

Jubilee went on. "Isn't it strange? Professor could have at least sensed something was happening to Melinda. He always has his 'danger antenna' cocked up, right? How did he manage not to detect any stress waves?"

Remy stared at the card on the table. "Pierre de Trois is a mutant," he slowly said with hatred.

Jubilee's eyes became round.

"His powers are almost illusion-like. He could project an image to a person's mind from miles away, scaring de hell out of a person or creating a false sense of security. Like he can make you walk to de top of an 80-floor building and walk right over and you'd still be smilin'. He's also a psycho-stealth. Which I presume has gott'n stronger over these years."

Jubilee pondered a while. "Including Professor's telepathic ability?"

Remy nodded gravely. "Just like dat." He snapped his fingers.

"Then that explains it," Jubilee muttered. "Let me see this card." She turned it around towards her. "What was its position when you found this card?"

Remy's eyebrows rose a margin. "Upside down, stuck deep in his throat." Jubilee immediately pushed the card away. "Is it important?"

"Very." She stared at the card a little more before pulling it back with the tips of her fingers. "This card is Three of Disks. Normally it would give a general meaning of construction. In tarot cards, whenever you pull a card upside down, its meaning is also converted. You said it was found upside down…"

Remy breathed out each word slowly. "Destruction… _mon Dieu_."

"Yeah. Mon Dieu indeed," Jubilee echoed him. "I think we're dealing with a nutcase here, Remy."

"You do not know how nutty dis one is," Remy said, his eyes fixated upon the bloodied card.

Jubilee started to say something she thought she might regret, but she wanted to say it. "Remy, I think we should tell the rest of the X-Men about this."

Remy's head snapped up. His eyes were burning red. If looks could kill, Jubilee would have died twice over. Bravely she went on. "Look on the obvious, Remy. Clearly this… this de Trois is stronger than both of us put together. Let alone if you wanted to fight this nutcase."

"Jubilee, you promised, _cheré_. Not a word to dem."

"Remy, be realistic for a moment here. Look who you are up against to. Even you said he's gotten stronger. Look what he did to that poor man. _He cut his throat with a tarot card_!"

"I beat him in de past. I'll beat him just the same in de present." His expression was of an obstinate child, sulking and brooding.

"You know, Remy, I didn't even ask you why you pulled me into this mess. I thought I could help you by telling you what de Trois is trying to tell you, then work you up enough courage to tell this to the rest. But you seemed to have other motives." When he didn't answer she went on. "What happened between you and de Trois? How bad was it that after all these years he returned lusting for you blood?"

Remy bit his upper lip in constraint to an urge slapping her in the mouth. Instead he said between the tight lips, "Get out."

Jubilee looked at him in disbelief, Remy losing his patience a new sight to her. Her expression then hardened. "Something happened, right?"

"Get out, _chére_, or I'll do somet'in' I might regret later." His voice was laced with potent anger.

Jubilee backed away, her expression still hard and cool. She put on her red sunglasses. "Why didn't you think of that before you fought Pierre de Trois years ago?" With that she walked out of the room.

Silence filled the room. For a moment Remy stared at the card, its upper tip smeared with dried blood, a Three of Disks. _Construction converted is destruction_. In a second Remy was on his feet and he kicked at the table to the door. The door banged shut.

A string of French profanities flowed out as he walked angrily to the window and braced his arm against the panels. "Damn you, Louis du Boudreault," he hissed. He grabbed something off a table beside him, charged it to the fullest and threw it outside. It shattered the snowman.


	3. The Scythe of Time Takes a Swing

**Part 3 The Scythe of Time takes a Swing**

"Ah, M. du Boudreault! Yes, monsieur, your room's ready. Yes, yes, a suite. Oh, certainly, monsieur! The bellboys will be there in a second."

The Rapier had just opened recently in the heart of New York, and for this time of year it was almost full. This Frenchman had his in the nick of time. When the manager saw M. du Boudreault in the flesh, she almost hugged and kissed him if not for the crowded foyer.

M. du Boudreault looked like as if he had just stepped out of a woman's fantasy. Stylishly short hair, it was silver in colour and slightly curly. His face had a quality of broodiness, but it shattered each time he smiled. The grey eyes twinkled lazily in their depths but also very perceptive and sharp. The manager thought he was some kind of bird of prey watching everyone's movement. The aquiline nose completed the effect.

The hand, when they shook each other's was large, and hers was engulfed in its warmth.

He was also tall, and further accentuated by the tan trench coat he wore that seemed to cover the widest shoulders she had ever seen. This man was large, and his smile could wake up the dead and send them straight to heaven. What else does a woman need?

Her imaginations were shattered, however, when she heard his smooth-and-rough voice said in a charming accented English, "This is my wife, Carole du Boudreault. Carole dear, say _bonjour_, will you?"

The wife turned out to be a woman no younger than her aunt in Philadelphia, who was ten years older than her own mother. "_Bonjour, mademoiselle_," Mrs Boudreault said to her. She seemed to be a bit dazed and out of focus. But then who wouldn't with such a wonderful specimen of manhood beside her?

Some women have all the luck, the manager thought dryly.

When the bellboys were out of the room, Louis' demeanour immediately changed. His smile died and his brows lowered to a single line, the eyes beneath them sharp and piercing. Deadly. The door was locked in a matter of seconds. His 'wife' stood motionless in the middle of the suite, dead as a nail.

Louis walked to her front and snapped his fingers twice. Her dazed look disappeared and terror immediately replaced it. "You! What have you done… where is this?"

"Settle down, my dear," Louis said, his voice soft in contrast to his handling. He had her shoulders in both hands and hooking a chair from his side, he pulled it towards him and forced her to sit on it. She struggled wildly to free herself from his hold. A bad move.

He took out a rope from nowhere and wrapped it around her twice before settling in front of her. "Don't move or I'll kill you."

"Do it, you son of a dog!" she shouted, hoping that anyone noticed them. "Do it and I'll be happy."

She felt her head tilt to the left in an instant and pain started to spread from her cheek to all over her face. He had just punched her. She heard him chuckled and slowly faced him. "What are you laughing at?"

Louis shook his head. "No, my dear. Your time isn't now. It will come, but not now. Not until everyone's here. You'd like that, don't you?"

She let her head hang low. "I don't know what are you talking about." Her mouth felt thick with blood and loath for this man who seemed to kidnap her for no reason.

"Oh? Then what if we did a little refreshing in that head? Clear up a little cobweb? Early spring-cleaning, if you like."

He said these as he walked around her leisurely with the rope ever tightening around her. Now the rope came to an end and he tied it into a tight knot. Twice. She could sense what was he going to do to her, and she started to whine. "Not again,…, please, not again…?"

Louis nodded, his smile would have been comforting if not for the steel quality of his voice when he spoke. "Yes. Again."

His hands on both temples, she began to feel the pricking sensation on her head which intensified into drilling. He was raping her mind, making everything there contort and meaningless. When it ended she felt violated, empty. All she could do was scream.

Louis merely smiled at Mel's screams. The honeymoon suites are supposed to be soundproof.

It was morning. Several policemen had just walked out of X-Mansion after asking them questions regarding yesterday's murder. As for the stranger's identity, the police still couldn't establish a solid description, but it was possible that this man was wanted for several swindling cases in Paris and two in the UK.

Hank hung upside-down from a parallel bar, his forefinger upon his lips. His eyes were closed and his forehead was deeply creased. Beside him, hanging from his tail, was Kurt. His pupil-less eyes blinked now and then, also trying to think.

"You know, _Mein freund_, this is getting nowhere," Kurt finally said. He released his tail's grip from the bar and fell lightly onto the floor. "My head's getting heavier with all the blood and the thinking going at the same time."

Hank opened his eyes slowly. "It's really strange. First of all, Professor Xavier claimed he did not detect any distress wave from outside from 3 p.m. to the event of the discovery, which is, as he has told me, a few minutes to five. At this time, though, he could detect Jubilee's distress wave and several others who were with her.

"Secondly, the strange circumstances of the body itself. It seemed that the murderer wanted us to find the body. And the curious state of his clothes. Come to think of it, the only article of clothing that wasn't swapped was the underwear."

Kurt fingered his lips. "Not to mention Melinda's disappearance. That makes her look like the perpetrator even more. I don't like the look of this. It's too strange."

Hank jumped down from the bar. "Jubilee said to the policeman that she didn't touch the snowman but instead she saw the mauve sweater poking out of it. Why conceal it if the murderer wanted us to find it quickly in the first place? What's the use of building it _in the first place_?"

Kurt tilted his head to the side. "This might be a childish thought but, could it be it was intended to frighten someone? In particular?" Hank threw Kurt a questioning gaze. "Rogue told me that the snowman seemed to be ominous and scary under the twilight yesterday. And she recalled that everyone screamed when the body fell out of it, including herself. A bit dramatic, isn't it? But it's a _Hohepünkt_, a flourish of climax in frightening proportions. It worked on every woman that evening."

Hank's eyes began to widen. "Thank you for the suggestion, Kurt. I think I know just who shall I be talking to next. But first, a little research."

Charles sat inside his study thinking. This whole business seemed too wild to set aside, now that one of the house member had gone missing, and even the police couldn't help them locating Melinda Farstein. It wasn't past 24 hours, so Melinda wasn't as yet classified as missing or kidnapped. No letters or phone calls, either. Hank just now had volunteered to do some research on the dead stranger in the Internet with the help of Ray Quinton Felix, a new member whose hacking is his expertise.

It was strange, the way his thoughts seemed to continually slipping aside yesterday. It wasn't natural, and he knew it. It was as if something blocked his mind, thus creating what he would call a 'dodge-field' in telepathic sense. Compared to now; he could spread his telepathy around the mansion and he could learn anything he wanted from the house members. Unlike yesterday.

Immediately he sent out for Logan telepathically. The latter arrived a minute later, looking sleepy and angry. "What do you want?" he muttered.

"Logan, is it possible for you to distinguish normal human from mutants through only scent?"

"You woke me up for a quiz? What's this, the 'Who wants to be a Mutant' show?"

"Just answer the question," Charles said, each word punctuated by a knock on the oak table.

"Heck, no."

"You did mention something about how they smelt."

Logan scratched his head. "I did. I said one particularly stink big time. But there's also Mel and the dead guy. Like I told ya yesterday, three people."

"This guy who stank big time. Have you ever come across him?"

Logan shook his head. "I'd remember if I did. This guy's got anger peppered all over his scent. Too strong-smelling. I don't like 'im a bit. An' now Mel's gone. This guy's gotta pay a lot."

Charles knitted his fingers together. "This man could be a mutant."

This remark made Logan rose his brows a bit. Charles gave him a serious look. Then he told Logan what happened prior to yesterday and how it would have been possible if the intruder was a mutant. "It's no wonder, then, how he could do so much; covering his tracks, making himself invisible to my telepathic surveillance."

"Ya know, prof," Logan said, "I'd reckon we invest in one of them security cameras. Ya gettin' too old for these kind of things."

"Find Remy. Tell him I need to meet him in the underground facility right away."

So was Hank's message for Kurt to relay to Remy. Hank thought of him right away after seeing his strange behaviour for the past few days. After teleporting himself a few times across the mansion he finally arrived in Remy's room. It was empty. The window was open wide while the cold air blew inside. Shivering, Kurt closed it.

Slowly he became aware that someone was crying outside of the room. He found that the door was locked and he unlocked it. Jubilee was outside, sobbing silently. When she realised Kurt was beside her she immediately stood up and began to leave. Kurt was swifter.

"Child, you will tell me what's the matter with you. Why these tears."

Jubilee wiped them, then shook her head. "Nothing. Really, I'm fine."

"There is definitely _something_. Now, Jubilee. Tell me. Why are you sitting in front of a locked room crying. And why did Remy left the window open while he's not inside."

Jubilee looked up to him. "He really did it?" Her eyes began to fill up with tears again.

Kurt's eyebrows rose questioningly before Jubilee realised that she'd just let the cat out. Then her inner reserves broke apart and amongst her tears Kurt learnt what had happened to Remy from Day One.

Driving wasn't his favourite mode of transportation, but Remy had to settle for it. He had no other choice; he had no personal savings and he wouldn't want to use the motorcycle in this snow. Fortunately the roads were clear by evening and the snow had somewhat melted away from the roads, so driving wasn't that dangerous. His thieving skills hadn't left him after all these years of abstinence, and Charles' MR2 Spyder Toyota became the latest proof.

The third card arrived right after the police had left. He had found it in front of the open window, lying there like some bomb waiting to explode when the right buttons were pushed. The ones in his head. This time he didn't question how it got there.

With a thick face he had asked Jubilee to interpret the meaning for him, to which she had stated a price: reveal this whole mess to the X-Men. He had agreed, with a backdoor plan slowly hatching in his head.

"This is the Ace of Swords card," she had said, her eyes glued to him, not trusting him to move even an inch. "It means you have to make a decision, and a very analytical one at that. But before you do, you have to remember that there are only two choices available. Once you picked either one of them, it's no turning back."

To Remy there was nothing analytical. It was an invitation to settle old scores, which he had tried so hard to bury beneath the sands of time. Now it resurfaced, sporting an uglier head and higher stakes. The decision he had chosen had led him to betraying Jubilee by locking her outside of his room and escaped through the window into the garage. Ultimately, to here.

"No turnin' back, huh?" Remy said to the rearview mirror, his sunglassed eyes stared back at him. Then his eyes fell upon a newspaper that lay on the seat beside him. It was an announcement of a hotel's soft opening named The Rapier in New York.

He never read or kept a newspaper in his room, but today he had noticed it was upon his bed, and the date was about two weeks ago. Just moments after he had found the card. It didn't take a genius to take two and two together to figure out what it all meant.

Slowly he began to hum to himself and then the words came tumbling out. He didn't feel remorse or anger this time, only complete peace. _Au contraire_ to the lyrics he was singing.

  
_Oh! Jour plein de larmes,  
Où l'homme ressuscittera de la poussière:  
Cet homme coupable que vous allez juger:_

_Épargnez-le, mon Dieu!  
Seigneur, bon Jésus,  
Donnez-leur le repos éternel._

Ah! that day of tears and mourning!  
From the dust of earth returning,  
Man for judgement must prepare him;

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!  
Lord, all pitying, Jesu blest,  
Grant them Thine eternal rest.

What a great way to start a long journey.


	4. The guilt of the Moth

**Part IV**

**The Guilt of The Moth**

###### _Author's Note: see below =_)

The door to Cerebro opened half an hour later. Charles moved out of it and the door closed. They almost sensed his disappointment and braced for the news. Rogue immediately walked to Charles' side. "Have you found him?" she asked, wanting to hear it from Charles himself.

"I still can't find him," Charles said, his head shaking slowly. "It seems like he's in some sort of a warped field - a dodge-field in telepathic sense - much similar to the one I sensed when Melinda was kidnapped and that stranger got killed."

"Have you figured out how does du Boudreault's power work?" Rogue asked.

"Projecting images into one's head is rather usual for a telepathic, but this goes further than that. It almost clouds the mind of the person, sort of a mind control that cannot be breached from outside. Even I cannot breach into it. For that cause I still cannot locate Remy."

"You mean he even snuffed out Remy's brainwaves?"

Charles watched Jean's eyes go round with wonder and fear. "Yes. It's like Remy's a puppet. It's possible he may talk or walk or act like he's conscious, but in reality he isn't. It's Louis du Boudreault that's controlling him, and Remy doesn't even realise he's being controlled."

Jean's left hand went up to her mouth. "He's leading Remy towards a deathtrap. My goodness, he's like a moth to a flame."

Rogue bit her lower lip. After a minute's silence she said impatiently: "Well, it'll get dang worse if we don't do anything 'bout it! Why can't we go look for him?!"

"We still have no information to what extent du Boudreault's power is. That will be like charging into a maddened bull."

"Maddened bull isn't what exactly I'd describe du Boudreault," Ororo, who had been standing in silence behind Jean and Rogue, suddenly remarked. "He's more like a calm, collected _psycho_. I bet he's enjoying every minute of this insanity."

Rogue watched her indifferently. "Ever slept with one before?" she asked pointedly.

Ororo gave her a neutral look. "None that I would tell any of you." She then turned to Charles. "Professor, Ray Quinton and Hank have traced the stranger's identity. They think you might want to see this."

Charles nodded. "Lead the way."

Remy woke up, his eyes disclosing a path of bright light that seemed to dance before his eyes in a small arc, and for a moment he smiled. "_Une, ma petite_..." he whispered to himself.

A deep voice, polite if not a little cold, set his mind back to level ground. "Sir, I have to use force if you are not willing to comply to my directions..."

The image blurred out and gradually focused. A pair of massive shoulder and a head decked with a police hat came into view. As if waking from a drugged slumber, Remy immediately realised where he was - and he had no idea where he was. He quickly rolled down the mirror - after realising that he was inside a car and the person outside was a policeman - and asked him, "_Monsieur_, where am I?"

The policeman gave him a strange look as he turned off his flashlight, confident Remy held no threat. "New York, sir." Then noticing his funny accent he quickly added, "Lost, sir?"

Remy scratched his head and nodded. "In fact I don't quite know where I am. I was driving and suddenly felt very sleepy and _voila_! I'm here."

More weird looks from the policeman. "You're not under the alcohol, are you?" Remy shook his head vigorously. "I take your word for it. Now, sir, move out of this spot. You're blocking the traffic."

Remy made an effort to look behind him through the open window. "I see no cars here, monsieur." It was true; all the cars were flowing smoothly on the main road, a rarity in New York at this time of year.

"I don't mean the road; you're blocking these people who wanted to hail cabs from the hotel. You've been here since two hours ago and it got the manager kinda worried. So pull over to some other spot now." He gave Remy a look that said, 'Darn foreigners.'

Remy nodded and started the car. Then remembering something, he called out to the policeman again. "_Monsieur_, where's dis De Rapier hotel? I need to get dere pretty quick."

The policeman gave him a tired look and pointed to the building in front of them.

Warren scratched his blond head for the umpteenth time. "Then why did du - du-whatever - kill this man? It makes no sense at all!"

Hank and Ray stumbled upon the stranger's identity a while ago, thanks to Ray's sophisticated hacking knowledge.

His name was Carter Clemence, aged 63. He was a native of France but moved into America somewhere after World War 2 and started a small business in New York which went bankrupt in a matter of months. From there he had started another business that took him to instant riches and made him a nation-hopper. He became a conman for the last 45 years and recently he seemed to have run out of luck. There was no further information except that he's wanted for con crimes across America and UK and France. Marriage status was also unavailable.

"You think du Boudreault's some kind of an agent?" Bobby asked Charles. "After all, Clemence is - _was_ - a wanted man. Maybe the French sent him after he swindled some high names."

"That doesn't quite tie with what you two saw the other day. Melinda talking to him." Hank thought aloud.

"Could it be he was looking for a place to hide from the authorities? The police won't check places like this, right?" Jean asked them.

Charles shook his head. "For a powerful mind, Jean, the logics seemed to have escape you. A criminal usually hides where the least chance of police came upon him, that's right. But the police psychology these days, they play it reversed. The least likely places would be their highest priority."

"Which means Clemence should have known that. Years of fugitive should have made him realise that." Hank started to walk on the ceiling, a sign of him doing a deep thinking in his head. "And yet he came here. To talk to Melinda. Why? What's so important that he denied his knowledge and came here?"

"They were lovers."

All eyes went to Ray who was still sitting in front of the computer. Slowly Ray felt the weight of their stares and went on. "Hey, that's the best explanation, right? I mean, if you took a plane across the Atlantic and landed down here only to meet a woman, what else could there be?"

Hank dropped down from the ceiling. "Where did you get this?"

"I made a check on flights from Paris to New York that was made in the last 24 hours, and I came up with two names you might be interested in." He paused for effect, and smiling, went on. "Carter Clemence and Louis du Boudreault. Same plane, same seat row, side-by-side." He gave them a big grin.

Remy was inside of the suite in The Rapier hotel. Locating the suite where Louis was staying was rather easy. Just pretend to leave a message in the receptionist's table and look carefully in which box will they place the paper.

Going in wasn't that easy. He had to wait for a while before he was sure everything was clear. Using his ability he charged the door handle and touched it. It exploded without much noise and the door opened.

Louis wasn't in the suite, and so was Melinda. Which was rather daring of him. It was already past 24 hours since Melinda had disappeared, and now the police must have classified her as kidnapped.

Remy could see nothing out of place in the suite. It was immaculate and clean, unlike a room that had a mad mutant who had taken a human for prisoner. Yet a certain sinister air hung about like a cloud covering the moon. Then he saw it.

There was a chair in the middle of the room. On it was pinned a note. Remy took it off and began reading it.

_Touché, my dear Deux. But I'm sorry to say you missed you by two hours too late. Not a good trait, unpunctuality is. It's very different from the old you. By the way, you must be wondering why the hell am I taking this Melinda Farstein. Does the name Penelope Roquefort ring a bell? Oui, n'est-ce pas? Go to Rockefeller Center Skating Rink if you wanted to see Melinda again. I know you'd want to if you know what's best for you._

He stared at the note a little longer, a deep crease started to show between his brows. Cursing, he crumpled the note and charged it before throwing it out of the open window.

Jubilee looked up from the diary. There was a brief commotion downstairs. When it passed she leapt from her bed to the door. No one outside. Great.

Minutes later she was almost to the lift going underground when a blinding flash made her close her eyes . When she opened them, Ray was standing before her, grinning widely if not a bit stupidly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jubilee gave him a tired look. "How long have you been following me?"

"I've just walked out of this elevator and saw you snooping. You're supposed to sit tight in your room." He closed their distance; Jubilee backed a bit. "You know how easy it is for me to activate wave-shield that's not in the normal human eyesight range."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Yada yada yada. Now what are you gonna do, spank me and make me sit in my room like a good girl?"

Ray shook his head cheerfully. "Nope. The question is, what are _you_ gonna do now?"

"Did they find Remy?" she asked, suddenly recalling the reason she ventured out of her room.

Ray gave her a sly look. "If I told you what will you give me in return?"

"Look Ray, I got no time to fool around. This is partly my fault, too. I hate sitting around while he's out there with a crazy man hot on his heels!"

Ray suddenly dropped his gleeful expression and he became serious. "No, Jubilee. Well, that's not entirely true. But we managed to contact Piotr who's having a small charity concert in one of those hotels - forgot which one."

Jubilee listened with increasing wonder. "But why the hell do you guys contact Piotr?! He's got nothing to do with this whole thing!!"

Ray slowly told her about the reasons Remy could not be traced. "I don't know what their plans are, but the Professor has sent Warren, Rogue and Ororo in advance to meet Piotr in New York. Logan, Hank and Scott followed them on Blackbird."

Jubilee fell into a deep thought. She slowly ran her fingertip across her lips and Ray caught himself thinking what would it feel to have his fingers on her lips instead. Quickly he shook off the thought, a notion he guessed had died along with Mona years ago.

"Ray," he heard Jubilee's voice almost pleading. "I need you to take me to where Piotr is meeting them"

Ray almost nodded if not for what Jubilee had just said. "Hell, no! No way! Logan gave me strict warnings, and he'll skin me alive if I don't follow them!"

"Ray, please! I need to know whether Remy's OK or not! I won't forgive myself if anything happens to him and I wasn't there to ..."

Ray saw the first drops of tears. His defenses went down as more of them fell upon the floor. Inside he fought not to touch her, go near her or anything that needed close contact.

Jubilee held her hands together tightly. If she had told them everything about Remy in the first place, he wouldn't have been lured to what could possibly his doom. Slowly she felt warm human skin snaking around her neck and shoulders. It was Ray's arms. He pulled her close to his chest.

Jubilee continued to cry while Ray's brain calculated how fast would it take to avoid Logan's adamantium claws.

_Author's Note_: I don't own these guys, and you know it. But this universe is entirely new and it exists in my head only. Ray Quinton, Louis du Boudreault @ Pierre de Trois and some other names you've never heard before are my creations. Oh, and please review =)


	5. (Two Chapters)

_Author's note: This is two-part story. Translations please look below. Pls review, too. _

**Part V**

**I Absolve You of Your Guilts**

Guilt is one of the strongest emotions ever known to anyone who are capable to feel. It drives you forward. It pushes you back. It makes you do things you never thought you would ever do. For Louis du Boudreault, the most important part of guilt is how a person is able to push it to the deepest abyss that is in his soul and deny its existence.

Louis sat at the edge of the rink, watching the people skate. Watching the _normal_ people skate. How they relish in that name, that title! As if God had bestowed upon them the best gift alongside that title. Normal.

He turned to Melinda who sat beside him, looking at the skaters but not really looking at them. Louis knew. He made sure she was as compliant as a cow who had just been put a ring through the nose. She would reply to his questions like any normal person would, but in truth it was his mind who orchestrated what she would say and react. Whenever this happened, from a distance they would look like a normal couple merely having a good time.

It had been easier with Carter. Carter Clemence was a man _filled_, to the extent of overflowing, with guilt. Louis could see it seep out of his being every time he faced Carter. What happened when he absorbed his guilt was beyond his wildest expectations... and more.

More than enough to create a plan that would eventually kill three birds with one stone. The first bird had died, though, so there were two more birds to kill.

Absorption of guilt comes with a price every time. A portion of the person's memory connected to the guilt will fade away, leaving only vague images. While the mind tried to recover the missing pieces, this left the mind weak from outer invasion. This would be the best time for him to manipulate a person because the mind has partial control over the body. Or that was how it seemed to Louis when he first used this ability.

When you bury something inside you, you never expect people to find them. But they come out. They always do. Sometimes even worse than the last time you saw them. Their intensity doubled, tripled or trebled over the passing time. Time may heal old wounds, but the guilt just burrows deeper and deeper until one day they explode out of you like a blood-filled paintball and splatter their secrets to the outside world. And then you are left crying for your past sin.

It was just as it had been with Melinda. Such a soft-spoken lady, such wonderful manners she had. A magician in the kitchen as well as in the social skills, she was adored by students in the school where Remy resided for the last three or four years. And when he found it, it was so well hidden that he wasn't sure at first that the image he had seen was her guilt.

And it all made the pieces he had seen in Carter's guilt clinked neatly to pieces. Almost all of them, anyway. The final piece had just entered his psychic-field; Louis could feel something in his head pulsed almost erratically when Remy suddenly appeared at the other end of the skating rink, his anger a panacea to Louis' drained energy.

Angered people were a good source, and Louis intended to see it would remain that way for a long time. At least until Remy's glorious death.

Louis opened his arms wide open and tilted his face a bit to the side, the friendly kiss gesture. Remy frowned. _I'm not going to kiss a lying pig like you_. He saw Louis' expression changed, surprised, maybe, but then it faded into a wide smile that would have looked genuine if Remy didn't spend his exiled times in Paris with _l'Enfants en Terriblè*_. Louis always smiled like that to a person he would have killed minutes later in cold blood. Like the kids in _A Clockwork Orange_, he'd tap-danced while shooting the unfortunate person.

"Why, Remy, how you break my heart! Why would you call me that? It's been - what, six years? I've missed you." His voice dropped a notch and his brows furrowed. Still smiling, he went on. "And so would dear Penny have."

Remy stared back with equal intensity. "Gambit didn't kill Penelope, damn it! Louis, how many times Gambit have to tell you, Penny didn't die because of _moi_! Someone killed her and framed _moi_ instead!"

He skated closer to Louis, the proximity was enough to almost see sparks flying between the two. "Oh, yeah, sure. And then there's Father Christmas with his fucking big balls filled with presents to give to all the good children of the world! Drop it, Remy! You've never been able to admit you killed Penelope because you thought you're the only one good enough to have her and if you can't, no one else can!"

Remy pressed the skate blades deep into the rink surface enough to bury it a good three inches deep. "Louis, t'ink what you want, but Penny never died 'coz of my hands. Gambit didn't even have de reason to kill her! I loved Penny, dammit! I would not even dream to kill her!"

Louis left his spot and skated to the middle as the visitors kept on skating as if they didn't exist. Remy began to sense something very wrong with the whole picture, but he couldn't quite put his fingers in it.

"Isn't that the strongest emotion, _mon ami_? _Amor_. Most of the times it brings good out of people. Sometimes it brings the devil out of a man. Did you kill Penny?" Louis said, suddenly swirled on his blades to face Remy.

"You, _mon ami_, are not fit to judge me. T'ink of de countless other lives you've taken when you were one of _l'Enfants en Terriblè_. De Higher ordered to kill just de man, you killed de whole fuckin' family! De Higher ordered to grab Mona Lisa off de Louvre, you smashed your way through de damned tourist and children! You're way too trigger-happy with dat psychic power of yours dat kills people whenever you feel like to do it. Dat was why Penny never liked you! She feared she'd be killed whenever you were near, she'd fear for your life as well as her own. She had loved you, Louis, before you became _Pierre de Trois_. de Trois was an excuse for you to be de brute that you are now, and by _Seignieur's**_ left hand Gambit'll end dis madness right now."

Louis only made vague hand gestures as Remy said those words and nodded. "And you are not entirely a saint yourself, my dear Remy. We'll leave the trail of broken hearts for the moment, but we'll focus on a certain time." He placed a fingertip on his forehead and tapped it twice, smiling.

At first Remy watched his movement suspiciously, then he realised the motion was meant for him. Whatever Louis was about to do could be up to no good. Suddenly Remy felt nauseous and instantly he lurched backwards. The moment his fingers and palms touched the coldness of the rink surface, he saw an even colder vision swimming before his eyelids. He closed his eyes and wildly shake his head, trying to shake off the vision, but it became clearer.

Remy wished to hell it didn't. With each degree it cleared up, Remy's head throbbed and it finally reached the extent to nearly explode his head.

It was the one where he had inevitably helped Mr Sinister and the Marauders kill the Morlocks.

Piotr was standing on the roof of a tall building. Storm was beside him, surveying the area. "Anything, Colossus?

Piotr was holding a gadget Beast had Storm given him. It was what he had referred to as psychic-activity detector. "Still nothing, Storm... wait. Yes, there is a massive interruption to the northwest."

At that moment Storm's communicator buzzed. "Storm. The detector hits a massive wave band interruption two miles due northwest."

Cyclops' voice came through. "We also detected a massive interruption of band waves half a mile due southeast. Well, then. It seems we've crossed Louis du Boudreault. Our lines crossed over Rockefeller Center Skating Rink. I'll gather Rogue and Wolverine to the Rockefeller place."

"It seems we have hit it, Colossus." Louis had laid psychic dead ends all over New York where he left semi-active psychic dodge-fields as decoys. Now they were certain this was the real one. All the others had been cleared by Rogue and Wolverine.

Piotr sighed. "It's going to be rather hard."

Storm nodded. She knew why. "I hope we have enough time to evacuate the people out of the skating rink."

"I don't think this thing's going fast enough, Ray."

Jubilee sat sulking as Ray pushed on the gas. "Strange. I fixed this thing days ago." The meter didn't even move an inch. "I guess the gas's low. We'll have to stop." 

"Stop? The X-Men are already there, and goodness knows what's happened to Remy and you want us to stop for gas?!" 

Ray stared helplessly at her. "You make it sound so wrong. I wonder why didn't that hunk of animal tear you to pieces eons ago." 

"Hey, don't call Logan animal!" Jubilee rose to Logan's defence. "He's the sweetest man I know and I give you my word he'll tear you to pieces if you don't start driving fast!" 

"If he really is sweet, then why didn't he bring you along?"

Jubilee felt as if she had just been punched in the emotional stomach. "I won't answer that," she quietly said moments later.

Ray drove into a gas station. "Won't or can't?" He stopped the engine and stared at the Asian girl. She looked sullen and uncertain. The red glasses she wore prevented him from knowing the real emotions churning behind her mind. "I'm gonna buy some gas and food. Wanna come along?"

She made no indications she heard him. Ray shook his head and went out, closing the door gently. 

"A little late to be tripping, eh?" asked the pump attendant with a bored face. Ray nodded. He went into the convenient store and bought some junk food and two large orange slushes. When he returned to the car he half-expected she was already gone. Amazingly, she wasn't. Worse, she was crying.

Ray placed the junk food at the backseat and the orange slushes on the dashboard after the attendant bid them goodbye. He gently took her hands, which thank God she didn't pull away. "Look, I'm sorry if I said anything bad and didn't know it. Now, drink something. For God's sake you haven't had your dinner." 

Jubilee shook her head and sobbed. "I should have seen it - I should have! Why didn't I tell you guys? Now I managed to send a friend to a war he wasn't expected to leave alive, and the rest of the X-Men to someone they had no idea of fighting. I should have given myself a congratulatory kick-in-the-ass!" 

More tears followed. Ray had no idea how to calm her down, and the attendant outside had noticed her little outburst and had suddenly busied himself with a potted plant not far from their car. So he tried to offer her the orange slush. "Drink it, calm down." 

Jubilee took it with hands shaking from uncontrolled sobs. "Wow," she said, trying to smile through the tears, "I managed to do two stupid, screwed-up business in one day. Let's have a toast for my stupidity!" She raised the paper cup clumsily and some of the slush spilled out on her. "To Jubilee, whose stupidity managed to destroy a man she adores and friends who she cares in one night!" 

With a sudden move Ray took her face and turned her towards him. "Jubes! Listen, goddammit! No one is blaming you, alright!? Everything's gonna be alright! Stop blaming yourself for everything! It's not like every bad thing happened because of you. There are a lot of other things worth doing than giving yourself a continuous kick in the ass." 

She watched him with a wonder that was short-lived. "Is being concerned of your friends something not worth doing, Ray?" 

"Well, you know I don't mean that," Ray said slowly. "What I mean is blaming yourself won't do any of us any good." 

"And so is positive thinking, Ray. I know you have this silver-lining-on-a-storm-cloud kind of attitude, but for once someone's got to play the devil's advocate." 

"Not to the extent of placing the blame in oneself! That's mere self piety! That's not doing any help to anyone, either." 

Jubilee dried her tears and asked tersely. "So, what are we gonna do, Mr Smart-ass? Go back to our cuddly little mansion and tuck ourselves to bed and dream of cotton candies and fairies while they battle some crazy mutant out there?" 

Ray instead took a packet of potato chips and shoved it to Jubilee's nose. "Time to stop talking and start chewing. I'll do the driving and the talking, and you don't talk unless I say the contrary."

She stared at the potato chips and then at Ray. "I think our little discussion is supposed to go on."

"Well, I say it ended just now, so BE QUIET!" 

Remy stood up slowly, the ringing in his head synonymous to a death knell. _Jour de colère que ce jour-là_... it went on and on until Remy's head was filled with it, without the smallest room to even think. When he slowly gained a small control over his head, a punch came out of nowhere and landed on his cheek. Remy fell face down, skidding across the cold harsh surface. 

The ringing came and went after the horrible vision of dead Morlocks died away, each time stronger than the first. As soon as he had lifted his head a kick on the left temple made his head cocked to the right, spinning and to land on his back painfully on the same spot where he had just fallen. Remy groaned, and felt blood flowing out of his broken lips, felt his strength draining out of his body. 

"You're stronger, Remy," Louis said through the ringing voices inside his head. He kicked him in the shins, and Remy immediately curl up painfully. His voice sounded as if he was gurgling, and more blood flowed out of his mouth. His arms went automatically up to protect his face when he sensed Louis' leg came up there, but it was to his stomach where the foot found its mark. Again, Remy curled in pain, groaning loudly. 

All the while the people around them skated as if they were not there, that they were merely one of the Prometheus statue, only to be seen and not to be touched or otherwise. Tchaikovsky's _Waltz of the Flowers_ now seemed cloyingly sweet to Remy's ears and it added up to the massive build up inside his brain. 

Remy's arms went around his stomach, trying to suppress the pain. There he encountered something familiar, but for the love of God he didn't remember what it was. He moved it and out they fell of his hidden coat pocket. As Louis was from behind him while he lay there all curled up, Louis didn't quite notice what was happening to him. He was saying: 

"Why did you kill Penny, Remy? Was it because you were afraid I would have got her at the end? Was it because you were jealous of our previous affair? Yes, I had been in love with Penny and I was about to marry her when _you_, son of a bitch, you came along with that strange eyes and sweet talk! Somehow you managed to sweet-talk her into leaving me and the best thing was, I even became you partner! You, a motherfucking son of a bitch who stole my lover, _you_, who managed to get even with me _twice_, YOU, motherfucking sonofabitch!" 

If the words could signify what Louis had done to Remy, the page would have small holes with boots imprints on them. Louis kicked his back endlessly that Remy felt if he did it for another minute, he could swear his vertebrae would have snapped into two and his guts spilled out in front of him. His hands, as he screamed painfully, were trying to catch hold on what had just fallen out of his pocket. _Shoulda brought Gambit's rod shoulda call the rest shoulda brought more cards dammit dammit_

"Irony! I'll _give_ you irony, my dear Deux! Yes indeed!" To Remy's utter despair, Louis pulled him up off the cold surface with one clean jerk. The cards, in the feeble hold of his hand, fell away onto the surface and he watched his chance of at least hurting Louis pass. 

Louis was oblivious to it all; all he was aware of right now was the pain Remy was feeling and his guilt, yes, the most important thing of all. Remy's guilt. "Do you know why I brought Melinda here, my dear Deux?" he asked, whispered, a sudden change from his heated words. "Don't you ever wonder why I killed Carter Clemence and let you see the body? Do you know why is this why I think that this an equivalent to Orff's _O Fortuna_?" 

Remy turned weakly at Louis whose grin nearly split his face in half. He said with great difficulty, "You _shick_... sonofabitch, dat's what you are, _fukhheadsch_...." 

Louis' grin changed into something that bordered on the absurd and sickly funny. He tapped his forehead again. "Watch. And learn, Cajun."

Even with all the pain racking his body, the pain in his head was the worst he felt ever, or since. It felt like the sun had just woke up and it shone so bright and so intense at the same time that it dries up every drop of moisture all around the place. It felt like dehydration, only what was being dehydrated was his brain, fast and merciless. 

Almost immediately everything faded into darkness and slowly Remy could see stars. _So, de mothafucka provided eye candies, no?_ Remy thought, almost laughing. They twinkled silently, staring at him with the olden lights. He looked down, and he was in an alley. Slowly he walked down the alley, aware that a sobbing sound was coming from before him. He wanted to hide, but his feet were stuck to the ground. 

_There is no hiding from the past, Remy. Watch. And learn._

He did. There was nothing else he could do.

Moments later he saw a figure, a woman's. She stooped at the opening of the alley and stood there for a while before she turned to leave. Suddenly there was a cry, like a baby's. And she stopped, hesitant. After another few moments she stooped and now Remy could see that she was holding a baby. The baby cried, and judging from its wail, a strong baby. She began to sing with a tone that was filled with sadness and longing at the same time:

  
_Ah! vous dirai-je, maman,   
Ce qui cause mon tourment?   
Depuis que j'ai vu Silvandre   
Me regarder d'un air tendre,   
Mon coeur dit à tout moment:   
Peut-on vivre sans amant?_

She tried to suppress her own crying as her baby quietened down and seemed to have fallen asleep under the lullaby. Suddenly she became startled and she let down her baby and ran past him. Under the light Remy could see her face clearly, sad, beautiful, and afraid.

She was Melinda.

Remy's mind went to pieces.

**Part VI**

**Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine***

###### *eternal rest give unto them, O Lord

By pure chance, Jubilee and Ray drove past The Rapier. Jubilee, still silent after the heated exchange earlier on, had amused herself by staring at the billboards. The moment she saw the hotel's billboard - which had a finely done rapier placed vertically over the letter - she recalled the last tarot card Remy had received. She urged Ray to stop and follow her into the hotel. At the receptionist she asked for either Pierre de Trois or Louis du Boudreault. The second name was available, but he had just gone out with his wife.

"His wife?" Jubilee asked the receptionist, disbelief evident in her voice.

He gave Jubilee a look that she thought as reassessing her. "Why should that matter much to you?"

"Just tell me where is his room."

"That, my dear, is a confidential matter. We do not kindly give out room numbers to anyone."

Ray intervened. "I think my sister meant to say she needed to see Mr du Boudreault because she is his acquaintance." Ray leaned across the counter-top and whispered, "Please, sir, she's been raving to meet this guy who left her two years ago and I'm afraid she'll blow my head off if she didn't see this man right away. Lovers' spat. Now she's had his baby and she wants this French man to be responsible."

The receptionist coolly listened to this, and gave Jubilee a disgusted look as he said, "I should be able to pass him a message and he'll be sure to receive it." He forwarded to them a pad and a pencil. Ray took it and gave it to Jubilee whose stares turned to black daggers as he whispered to her what should be written there.

She slammed the pad on the counter-top when she was done, the black daggers still coming in rains. "There."

The receptionist turned to place the note into the 325 box and when he faced them again, they were still there. "Well?"

"Where is the ladies' room?" Ray asked after a hesitant pause.

Jubilee knew Remy had been in the suite. The door handle was a clear indicator. Ever the careful thief, he had closed the door and replaced it with another handle that had been unspoilt by his powers.

"How did you know Remy came here?"

"The last card he received was an Ace of Swords, otherwise a single sword. Sword is another word for blade or rapier." She let her sentence trailed off, assuming Ray knew how she came to the conclusions. Her eyes were restlessly scanning the dark room for any clues.

"Kindly please tell me what are we looking for here," Ray said as he activated his luminescent hand. After gathering enough light waves from the surroundings, it gave him ample energy to light up a room with one hand.

"That du Boudreault must have taken Melinda here and did something to her. But it seemed there's nothing to tell us what had happened. Now-" Jubilee paused. She saw a writing pad lying carelessly upon the floor. "Ray, come here."

He did, and Jubilee picked the pad up. She slanted it at an angle opposite to Ray's luminescent hand and sighed thankfully. "Get me a pencil." Ray groped for one off a dressing table, and she started to smudge her fingers with the lead and then quickly she rubbed them onto the pad.

"What is it?" Ray asked as Jubilee held up the pad, looking happy for the first time since the whole mess had started. She beamed at him. "I know where Remy is."

You... are one big liar,..." Remy said as he tried to stand, but his legs refused to. He had to support his upper body with what strength left inside his arms. "You... are one, _fuckin_' big liar, Louis..."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, my dear Deux," Louis said as he skated in circles around Remy, like a shark circling its prey. "But that's the truth. And most of the time, you wanted to know what the truth is. Don't you?" He stopped in front of him as Remy tried to pull back his strength into his legs but it was being resisted, and Remy could see sweat falling from his face as it turned to ice on the cold rink surface.

Tchaikovsky was still playing in the background.

"Now the truth's here and... you hate it. You hate the truth I've worked so hard to gain for you, for you to see and realise and know how low your origins were." Louis resumed his walk around Remy. "The offspring of a common whore and the biggest conman, no wonder you have such... charming traits and a penchant for stealing. I wonder whether Melinda pick pocketed her 'clients' when they were done with her?"

The last sentence was said with such mockery and disgust that Remy would have twisted Louis' head open and stepped upon it on the could surface if not for this cursed... whatever that was holding him from gaining full control of his body.

"And Carter Clemence is - oh, I'm sorry, how insensitive of me! _Was_, yes, was, a great conman, but he finally fell down from his grace yesterday. But at least he's still doing a good job becoming a snowman! Hahah! I should have stayed around and watch the expression on your face when you found his body yet not knowing that had been you father all along."

Remy felt his legs were finally waking up. He moved them slightly and felt it began to gather strength. "You are sick, Louis. Why did you do dis? Why do you have to bring dem into dis? Had not'in' to do at all with _moi_. You have Gambit here. Let Melinda go."

With the greatest effort he forced his head to look up at Melinda's direction. She was still sitting there like some puppet, her eyes empty and lifeless, yet her hands were moving pointlessly about her.

Remy recalled the times he had been near Melinda. There was not even the smallest hint that she ever tried to tell him he was her son. She had been a normal woman, wonderfully honest and even put up to his pranks and flirtations. She acted similarly towards the rest of the students like she never knew him.

Now as Remy thought, how hard it must have been for her to try act normal while her long-lost son was only an arm's reach, while she could have simply told him that she was his mother.

But the consequences... the consequences would have been either a fairy-tale ending or simply disastrous if she did so. The suddenness of this news would have turned his world upside-down. He might have even called her an impostor, in this crazy world where even bloodlines are not considered sacred. Nothing is sacred anymore.

He might have denied her.

Thus the probable reasons why she didn't tell him at the first place. Guilt, guilt and more guilt impeded her footsteps like jagged broken glass all stuck with the sharp edges up, slowing her down, terminally shutting down her own will to call him 'son'. Who would have been happy to meet the person who placed you in some unknown alley in New Orleans and made you believe you were an orphan from the day you were born?

"You see, Remy," Louis' voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "How your maman wanted to meet you but can't? How badly she wanted you to know she's your mother but feared the consequences? Well," Louis spread his arms open like some icon saint blessing a pilgrim, "I am here to do exactly that. I fulfill her will. And yours."

"Dis... is not what it shoulda been... Gambit never asked for your help..."

Louis' arms dropped, his face a study of feigned rejection. "Now you're being unkind. I reunited you with your mother, I let you meet your father in the best way he should have been-"

"You killed my father and you turned my mother into a catatonic human being!" Remy shouted as he stared at Louis, his arms started to gather energy. "You destroyed my family and Gambit's s'posed to be thankful!?"

"Now you know how I felt when I lost Penny, you sorry little thief." Louis stopped again and knelt down. "How does it feel? Tell me, Remy, or Shadow Deux, how does it feel? Guilty? Sad?" He forced Remy's face up and stared at him. "Tell me."

Remy's voice came out as a croak. "_Non_." Then he spat out thick blood mingled with saliva onto Louis' face. Taken aback, Louis tightened his hold on Remy's chin and wiped the goo off his face with the sleeve of his coat.

At that moment Remy's hand that had held bits of ice tightly went up to Louis' cheek and pressed there. The ice had been charged and it was burning with latent energy, and the moment it was pressed onto his skin Louis screamed in pain. Remy merely tightened his hold on Louis' face. He felt something wet and thick and hot flowed down Louis cheek and Remy smiled as he hung his head low.

"Take dat," he said with a smile in his voice. That instant Remy was pushed down flat onto his back. Louis immediately rose and held his burnt cheek, screaming and cursing loudly in pain as he kicked at Remy again and again.

At that instance Remy felt his legs steadied and his hands managed to grab at Louis' kicking feet and pulled him down. Louis fell down with a grunt and another curse escaped his mouth. To stall his rise Remy made a strong kick which would have been feeble and harmless if not for the bladed skates he wore. Louis shouted again.

As his sight, coordination and feet steadied he immediately skated to where his cards had fallen. It was strange to be able to move again, free from whatever Louis had done to him just now. As he picked them up again he began to sense another clamping sensation around his mind that directly went to his legs and body.

_Fight dem fight dem fight the bloody Louis control fight the bloody sonofabitch tries to control you again but not dis time Louis no Remy's back Gambit's back better than ever cos you killed moi father an' you made my maman a vegetable Gambit'll turn you into a vegetable an' let you rot in the salad bowl oh yes Louis yes hear me? hear me fighting you back? Gambit's stronger now and Penny I didn't kill Penny it was a freak accident someone framed Gambit to make it look like Gambit killed her fight dem fight dem fight dem fight_

Louis was still lying upon the floor and rolling around. Only then Remy realised he had kicked Louis in the eye with the blunt edge, and it seemed he had hit where it hurt the most. The atmosphere around him began to lighten, and some of the skaters who had been skating endlessly for the past hour stopped, panting loudly for breath. Some seemed to have awakened from a deep trance and when they saw a bleeding man lying on the rink surface they panicked and started stampeding outside.

The dodge-field was crumbling. Only Melinda didn't seem to change. Remy quickly skated towards her while pains still racked some parts of his body with every move he made. He finally made it to her side and slowly made her stand.

"Mel,...?"

Her eyes were as empty as a dead lake. The cheerful glint had been replaced by a shadowy light that created an illusion of a cataract-filled eyes.

"Mel... _maman_... it's Gambit,...

As the word escaped his mouth he felt a drop of moisture fell upon his cheek and travelled down. Melinda was staring at him with the blank look.

"_Maman_, it's Gambit... your son... come back, _maman_... listen to me... come back...

A glint in the eyes. Had they widen just now? Had they moved with humane feelings?

Melinda's mouth began to move. Remy watched them open and close as he tried to steady her. "Oui, maman... say somet'in'... anyt'in'..."

Her hand went up to touch his unshaven cheeks and Remy closed his eyes as it travelled up to the planes of his forehead and nose, relishing the feel of her hands on his face. "_Remy... pardonnez moi***..._"

Remy's eyes opened immediately. Melinda was crying as she now had both of her hands around his face. Remy covered him with his own and smiled. "Oui, _maman_...";

"REMY! MELINDA!"

As sudden as Jubilee's voice had intruded from amongst the panic-stricken crowd, Remy saw Melinda's eyes widen and the next he found Melinda standing in front of him, spreading her arms, protecting him from whatever that would have come. A sickening _jab!_ suddenly held time and space in suspension in Remy's mind as he saw Melinda fell down, agonizingly slow, onto the cold surface. Her arms entangled around his, it made her whole body turn around before she came with contact onto the surface, and there had been a brief horror in her expression replaced quickly by a smile as Melinda's soul slid away from existence.

"Heh, I still have the last laugh," said Louis, his hand covering his bad eye and another held a tarot card.

Breathless, Remy looked up from Melinda and saw Louis sneering at him. Despair gave way to rage, and before he could even think, four aces flew across their distance and Jubilee found herself wet with sticky red fluid that was Louis' blood mingled with his brain moments after one massive explosion decapitated him.

Jubilee, stirred from the trance, slowly walked over to Remy who stood still over Melinda's body. She shivered when she saw what had killed Melinda. Upon her head stuck a tarot card with the symbol Death on it. There was no blood, period. She knew the rest of the X-Men were right behind her as soon as the stampede had cea, but she didn't care even if she would be suspended for a lifetime because of this. She deserved it.

She walked closer to Remy, her arm immediately linked to his as he suddenly fell upon his knees, his wide shoulders shaking. One hand covered his face and the other opened weakly, letting the rest of the pack fell down. He began to cry.

"Remy...," Jubilee began, but she could not find any other words.

"Melinda was my _maman_.. my _maman_, and she died before she could even tell me dat..." Remy sobbed unashamedly. "Carter Clemence was my papa... and Louis killed him and made him into a snowman..." here Remy began to laugh madly as his tears flowed on. " _Snowman_!"

Rogue, also crying, knelt beside them and started to caress his hair. "We're sorry, sugah...," was all that she could say. 

Words of consolation began to flow from each of them, but Remy simply shut them off. He cried as he released Jubilee's and Rogue's arms. He cried as he took Mel's body in his arms and stood up. He cried as he walked out of the rink, singing to himself the very song Melinda had sung to him the day they were separated, and today he sung it to their reunion.

And separation. Again.

  
_Ah! vous dirai-je, maman,   
Ce qui cause mon tourment?   
Depuis que j'ai vu Silvandre   
Me regarder d'un air tendre,   
Mon coeur dit à tout moment:   
Peut-on vivre sans amant?_

** THE END**

_Author's Note:_ _Ah! vous dirai-je maman _is the original song in which _Twinkle twinkle little Star_ came from. Roughly translated it says about the thoughts of a boy who hated to be told to think like grownups. Any errors in the French languages are entirely mine. If there was such a thing as pig French, then it's me =)

*The Children of Terror

**The Lord's 

***forgive me


End file.
